


favor

by peakgay



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Blow Jobs, Jealousy, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 11:30:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5742100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peakgay/pseuds/peakgay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Washington’s hand dragged down his shoulder again. “It’s too hot to bear,” Washington said, and then he brushed the backs of his fingers, his knuckles, along Hamilton’s jaw. Hamilton’s head snapped up. He let out a breath, and now he could see that Burr was staring at him, mouth open, eyes widened.</p><p>Yes, they both knew. It was the only explanation.</p><p>Hamilton squeezed his eyes shut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	favor

**Author's Note:**

> thank you Lena for reading this mess i wrote at 12am and pointing out various tense and spelling errors. together, i think we may have caught them all.
> 
> this ot3 deserves More. and i wanted an excuse to write some exaggerated porn.

It started with Burr's eyes, dark and full of fire aimed at the General. 

‘Hate’ was not the word. Neither was ‘indifference.’ Washington looked at Burr with more narrowed, careful eyes, his tongue between his teeth. Hamilton always felt he was measuring something. His words, his actions. He stood so tall, and then his hand rested on Hamilton’s shoulder and he leaned down, whispered, “Stay,” and Hamilton stayed.

Burr crossed his arms. His eyes strayed from Washington to Hamilton, and Hamilton shivered. It was hot. Camp was always hot. He had bruises blooming on his ribs, and he was tired.

“With all due respect, Your Excellency,” Burr started to say. Hamilton heard that the respect was false, intoned and surrounded by anger and frustration. “Shall we stay here until the troops die in the heat?”

Washington’s hand moved from the back of Hamilton’s shoulder to his neck. His thumb dragged over the skin right beneath Hamilton’s hairline, and Hamilton bit his lip, letting his eyes flutter shut. He took a breath and looked down. He sat at his desk, fingers curled tight around a quill, staring at an empty piece of parchment in front of him.

There was no question that both men knew. Now they just had to find balance. Though perhaps, Alexander thought, as he peered down at the paper, blinking against the sweat that threatened to drip from his brow to his eyelashes, they had no intention of balance or bargaining.

“Hamilton,” Washington said, instead of answering Burr’s question. “You seem tense.” He drew the words out - he wasn't asking. The words read like a command, Washington’s voice deep and thrumming. How he could keep such composure in this heat, with Aaron Burr staring him down and shaking, Hamilton would never understand.

He flicked his gaze to Burr. “I would prefer not to see the two of you argue. The heat is too much.”

Washington’s eyes turned from Hamilton to Burr. “See? You’re upsetting my finest aide.”

Hamilton flushed. It didn’t come from the heat.

He shifted, then looked back at Burr, who now had his lips pressed together. His uniform was too tight, and Hamilton’s heartbeat was picking up.

Washington’s hand dragged down his shoulder again. “It’s too hot to bear,” Washington said, and then he brushed the backs of his fingers, his knuckles, along Hamilton’s jaw. Hamilton’s head snapped up. He let out a breath, and now he could see that Burr was staring at him, mouth open, eyes widened.

Yes, they both knew. It was the only explanation.

Hamilton squeezed his eyes shut.

Burr took a step forward. “Sir.” His voice was hard, still wound. Hamilton wanted to wrap himself around that voice; be buried in it. God, he wanted something to drink.

“You needn’t hesitate, Mr. Burr.” There was something mocking to Washington’s tone, but Hamilton didn’t dare open his eyes to look at the General’s face. There were fingers under his jaw, tilting his head back. He was sure they were Washington’s, and they expected something from him. It made his pulse quicken and his cock ache.

They were both staring at him, and he could feel it.

Washington’s voice again, ghosting near his ear. Warm breath. It swallowed Hamilton’s sense of control. “It’s true, Mr. Burr. He doesn’t know when to shut up.”

Another shuffling of steps. “Look at me.” Burr’s voice. Hamilton opened his eyes and looked at Burr, blinking quickly and running his tongue over his lips before he rubbed them together. Everything felt dry, unnatural. His pen had drifted - he didn’t remember letting it go, but his fists were clenched on either side of the desk. Washington was close. Burr was a foot away from the desk, and God - all Hamilton could think of was God.

“Alexander,” Washington breathed, and then stepped back. Burr took his place; perhaps they had planned this, Hamilton pondered, as Burr curled a hand into his hair and tugged his head back just slightly. Hamilton moved again in his seat, facing Burr. He kept his eyes open, though he wanted nothing more than to tip his head back and relax as the air sweltered and his sweat dried in his uniform.

Burr’s mouth was hot. Hamilton hesitated, lazy at first, then kissed him back. It was enough. Salt and copper. Perhaps Burr had a broken piece of skin on his lip. It didn’t matter for even a second. Burr was between his legs, and then he was on his knees, pushing Alexander’s thighs apart.

Hamilton let out a breath, and when he opened his eyes again, Washington was staring at Burr’s back.

Burr said nothing. His hands worked slowly at Hamilton’s breeches, and Hamilton’s thighs quivered as the scene unfolded in front of him. He was being watched, intently, by the General. No one would disturb them. Hamilton wasn’t sure what he’d do if someone did. 

Burr’s mouth was on him. If Hamilton complained about heat again, it would come across as a poor joke. He shut his eyes, resting his head back, and sighed. Burr pushed his breeches down his thighs as best he could, and wrapped his fingers around the base of Hamilton’s cock. Hamilton expected nothing else; Burr’s lips were rough against sensitive skin, and his tongue was inhumane in its heat, but he just moaned, quiet and efficient as he rocked his hips into Burr’s mouth.

The hand that rested on Hamilton’s throat was warm, wide and heavy. The General turned Hamilton’s head and Hamilton opened his eyes to look at him again. There was nothing like this in the world. He opened his mouth. Washington kissed him.

“Shh, shh,” Washington whispered, his lips still against Hamilton’s. There was a slight tingle as he withdrew, and Hamilton bit back the sigh and moan that threatened him. Burr took his mouth off of Hamilton’s cock, then drew his tongue across the length. He licked the head, then sucked again, and Hamilton’s willpower began to shatter.

As Washington held his hair, Hamilton reached down his trembling fingers to touch the back of Burr’s head. Burr hummed around his cock. The sensation drew another extended moan, quiet and under his breath, through Hamilton. Washington gave a sharp tug of his hair, only enough to jolt him back slightly, and Hamilton whispered a broken apology.

Washington kissed him again. He thought he was forgiven, but he bit his lip anyway, to keep any sounds inside. It worked, to an extent.

It was damned hot. Sweat gathered at his brow; the back of his head. He was thrusting upward into Burr’s mouth with no thought anymore, clinging desperately to the sides of his chair. Burr’s hands clung to his thighs and Hamilton whined as Washington’s mouth caught his again.

He came with a sharp gasp. Burr choked and sputtered, and his teeth grazed against Hamilton’s cock for a second before he withdrew. When Hamilton looked down at the Colonel in front of him, Burr was wiping his mouth, and his eyes reflected the tent’s heat.

Hamilton relaxed into the chair. He looked at Burr, mouthed an apology, but Burr just shook his head as he stood.

“Alexander.” Washington’s voice again. Hamilton couldn’t feel his own bones, and he tilted his head back again to look at the General. “Get up.”

The request was unfair. He grunted and pushed himself to his feet, hiking his breeches up just enough so he could tuck himself inside again and look at Washington. “Sir.” His voice was hoarse.

Washington asked much of him, and Hamilton always knew it was because he trusted that Hamilton was able. Hamilton knew Washington wouldn’t push him to his knees, or ask him to sink down - but he also knew that’s what Washington was thinking about. His eyes were dark, his pupils blown. 

Hamilton moved around the chair and pushed Washington back towards the desk. Washington braced his hands on the edge of the desk and sighed as Hamilton fell to his knees in front of him, and busied his hands.

He was more efficient than Burr. He had done this before; with Washington. With other men. With Burr.

He mouthed and curled his tongue with the intention of Washington coming quickly, and without much thought. It was rare that Washington took his time; although occasionally, he liked to get Hamilton worked up. Hamilton smiled as he flattened his tongue and focused on drawing Washington’s cock further, towards the back of his throat. He still struggled with it, sometimes - Washington was patient.

If Burr was watching, he said nothing, and Hamilton instead kept his focus on the cock in his mouth and the hand in his hair. It was easier this way. He looked up at Washington and groaned, and Washington either loved it or hated it. He growled, and thrusted further into Hamilton’s mouth.

“Alexander.” His sharp, commanding voice. Hamilton held onto Washington’s hip with one hand, used the other to grip the part of the General’s cock that did not fit inside his mouth.

He sensed the saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth and pulled back, but Washington gripped his hair tightly and kept him still. He closed his eyes.

“I’ve never seen him so quiet for so long.”

Burr’s voice made Hamilton’s cock, spent as it was, twitch. He gave a halfway moan, lapping his tongue over Washington’s cock.

“He can be quite obedient when it serves him.”

“Or when it serves you.” Burr’s voice was deep, still bordered on anger. “Sir.”

Washington chuckled. He was fucking Hamilton’s mouth in earnest now, and Hamilton kept his throat as open as possible to prevent gagging. He knew he was drooling, and normally it wouldn’t affect him, but Burr was watching.

“You want to touch him, too.” Washington had no doubts. “I understand.” He was quiet, and Hamilton wondered how he managed all that self-control. Did he simply swallow down what Hamilton felt every day? Or did he lack those problems, that anger? Hamilton knew it wasn’t a lack of rage that made Washington a good general. Washington certainly experienced rage. Hamilton had seen it.

“I appreciate the silence,” Burr said. His voice was still annoyed, and Hamilton tried to pinpoint the exact emotion. 

Before he had the chance to think on it, Washington gasped - laughed - and then came down in his throat. He didn’t sputter like Burr did, closing his throat around the sensation. He swallowed twice more before he withdrew and kneeled back, looking up at Washington who adjusted himself and leaned back against the desk.

“Mr. Burr.”

Burr said nothing.

“You’re dismissed.”

“Sir,” Hamilton said, sparing a look at Burr. Burr stood completely still, his eyes the only moving part, shifting between the two. “I would be…”

“No, Hamilton,” Washington says. An order. “You’ll stay with me, here, for the time being. The Colonel will have his time. I need mine.”

Hamilton didn’t argue. It was useless. He nodded, and then Burr nodded too, and took his leave.

“Come with me,” Washington says. Hamilton pushed himself from his knees, wiping his mouth. He was dizzy now; the afternoon felt like a daydream. Sweat pooled in the small of his back. Then Washington was kissing him again, and Hamilton knew that afternoon was not over. Perhaps overnight the heat would cool, then be reignited.

He was quiet as Washington kissed his throat and laid him against the hard desk. He said nothing, responded when appropriate. He wondered, eyes shut, what it would feel like to be between them both at the same time. Aaron Burr touching him while General Washington did the same. 

He drifted to sleep that night, in a tent not far from Washington’s, comforted by the thought.

Perhaps it would happen, though it was unlikely with two men of such differing opinions.

He was lucky they had not yet spat on each other, Hamilton decided.


End file.
